


fish-tank baptism

by JudyBluff



Category: Far Cry 5, Far Cry: New Dawn
Genre: Based off first trailer, EDIT: Guess what was shot in the head, Gen, Gun Violence, Ideas before cannon shoots it in the fucking head, Motorcycle abuse, fish abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 23:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17796812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JudyBluff/pseuds/JudyBluff
Summary: “Was there like...fish in it?”“Yeah but they were dead.”





	fish-tank baptism

**Author's Note:**

> no beta: we die like men

The bike runs out of gas half a days drive away.   
She wheels it towards one of the brightly decorated cars rising from the ground like something undead and hides it in the shade.    
Likeliest chance of it not being found and used for scrap- 0.00001%   
  
She keeps the key, though.   
The bike tips over on its side and she kicks it.   
  
Her mother would be proud.   
  


XXX  
  
She stops when the rainbow sky is just going out and fishes out a well-used map and familiar journal.  
She finds herself on the map with effort and finds the bunker within the details of leather-bound pages with even more.  
It takes blood, sweat, tears, more kicking, and enough swearing that it would have made her Pa faint if he heard, but the hatch is finally pride open.  
  
The air is old.  
  
Old and heavy, but she crawls right in.  
  
It smells like home.  
  
She dines on decade old canned peaches and what is probably actually dog food but she’s not really sure because the label seems to have peeled off and falls asleep with a full stomach.  
  


XXX   
  
The engines are loud enough to deafen her and the leather of the seats sticks to her skin but she laughs anyway and whoops when the plane does amazing impossible things.   
  
The pilot’s immaculate hair stays just in place and when blue eyes turn around to hers and their laughing with her.   
  
He’s trying to say something.    
  
His lips are moving, the flash of white teeth and pink tongue, but she can’t hear him.    
  
He’s trying to say something.   
  
The engines are too loud. She can feel them in the back of her throat.   
  
She’s still laughing as the plane fails to pull back up and crashes right into the ground. 

 

XXX   
  
  
She still hears the laughter when she wakes up on the floor, tangled in hole-ridden sheets.   
After a minute passes and the laughter hasn’t stopped she becomes concerned.   
  
She’s doesn’t have that type of psychosis.    
  
She realizes it’s coming from above her.    
  
When she crawls back up the ladder with a revolver shoved down her shorts, there are flames from poles stuck in the ground trying valiantly to fight off the shadows and light up the surrounding area.    
  
Men and women dressed in a hodgepodge of hockey pads, sports bras, and biking equipment all covered in the same layer of filth, sit on bikes and sidecars and watch.   
  
Laughing.   
  
Watching a man terrorize a limping animal with a nail ridden bat.    
  
She goes to take a step forward but stops.   
  
Looks down.   
  
A tree branch sitting patiently in the dirt.   
  
She slowly..deliberately...   
  
Brings her foot right down on it.   
  
The resulting crack is loud and heart stopping.   
  
The laughter cuts off like one of her mother's skipped records and all heads snap towards her.   
But not at her.   
  
No one can see past these shadows.   
  
“Someone out there?” One of them calls.    
  
“Yes,” she says and pulls out her gun to fire.   
  
The one with the bat falls.   
  
Someone screams. Another one swears.    
She fires again and starts walking.   
  
One wearing a helmet goes down.   
  
They start to stand and fire into the darkness but no one can see.   
No one.   
  
She puts the muzzle to the back of another’s head, and they don’t even know before she’s pulling the trigger.    
  
Bang.   
  
Steps back into the dark.    
  
Bang.    
  
Another.   
  
Bang.   
  
Another.   
  
Until the last one falls with the air still echoing.    
  
She hears something dragging in the dirt and sees that the man who held the bat, who used it to beat an animal into the ground, was still alive. Pulling himself along, leaving a trail of red behind him.    
  
She walks towards him and he begins to cry.   
  
“M-Monster!” he sobs.   
  
She feels something warm run down her face.   
  
It’s not tears.   
  
“Yes.”    
  
Bang.   
  
  
The animal is a skinny, rugged, bloody mess of a dog and it growls like it will rip her throat out if it could and she loves it already.    
She carries it into the bunker and feeds it the rest of the probably dog food and in the morning she packs everything into one of the newly permanently acquired bikes and they head off.    
  


XXX   
  
The moon is gone and she is being consumed.   
  
Timber made a run for the bike and Carmina was just next to her a second ago but she’s not sure.   
She hears her breathing and the blood rushing in her ears and the men searching for them and she swears she hears singing in the dark.   
  
A hand grips her’s and pulls her along.    
Plants brush her face and tickle her nose.    
Things become fuzzy and the sky lightens up.    
  
They do not run. They walk calmly, single file.    
  
She hears the singinghumming _ laughing  _ __  
  
She looks to her side and she sees through the flower stalks glimpses of things far away as they walk past.    
  
A thin haggard man kneeling in the dirt, bleeding from words carved in his skin saying over and over  **I was wrong**   
  
A bright burning cross   
  
A wolf whose eyes shine more than the wet around its mouth and a music box at its feet smashed to bits

 

A man sitting at a desk bent over a radio with a bent neck

 

A flickering neon sign half buried in the dirt

 

A crib with tubes crawling up its side with something inside  _ wailing _

 

A Great. White. Horse. 

 

XXX   
  
They’re out of the field. 

 

The road lies just ahead and Timber whines with nerves sitting right next to the bike.    
  
“How did you...”    
  
She turns, and Carmina is behind her, clutching at her hand.    
She looks down at her other.    
  
But it only grasps a single white flower.

 

XXX   
  
  
  
The wall is brightened up with large torches at night for easier defense.    
  
They also work in shifts.    
  
However, no defense is being had with the way Carmina is drinking down that beer.    
She has her own and it tastes just like what rat piss smells.   
  
She takes another gulp.   
  
“It’s like they just all lost hope!” Carmina waves her bottle and she has to duck out of the way, before she’s smacked and sent over. “All they see is what’s gone! Absolutely no faith whatsoever...” Her eyes dim.  “I know this isn’t the life mom wanted for me but...”    
  
She suddenly, overwhelmingly wants to do anything that would put the life back into Carmina Rye’s face.   
  
“My Pa baptized me in a fish tank.”   
  
The bottle freezes just as it touches her lips and Carmina turns her head towards her real slow.   
  
“Was there like- fish in it?”   
  
“Yeah, but they were dead.”   
  
She doesn’t tell her how her earliest memory was of their scales floating across her skin.    
  
“He was pretty religious I guess and it was the only container with enough water in it at the time.”   
  
Carmina’s laughter is sudden and all-encompassing and she would like to point out this was actually a traumatic experience and no you should not laugh Carmina but soon she’s lost to it and she’s choking on decade old beer trying to explain how her mother nearly choked her Pa out with his own rosier when she found him dunking their 11 month old in dead fish water and Lord-   
  
Does it feel good to laugh.

 

Until Carmina slaps her on the back and she ends up going over anyways. 

 

XXX   
  
The world is a red haze that remind her of dirty sunsets and fire smoke.   
  
**Cull the Herd**   
  
What Herd? Everything is already dead.   
  
**Sacrifice the weak**   
  
They’re all gone. They’ve burned.   
  
**You’re Weak**   
  
That’s an opinion.   
  
She shocks a laugh out of herself and gets up to walk through the camp. Everything is frozen, no one moves.    
  
She walks up to the wall.    
  
The red light gleams off a dozen helmets and cars that surround the entrance.   
What looks like twins stand in front of one of their people on his knees.   
  
Everyone is tense and either look down their guns sites or openly glare at the hostile force.    
  
She looks down hers and mimes shooting every single one of them in the head.    
Only she begins to pull the trigger.   
  
Bang.   
Bang.   
Bang.   
Bang. Bang.   
Bang. Bang. Bang.   
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.   
Bangbangbangbangbangbang   
  
  
**Good**   
  
  
  
Click.    
Click.   
Click.   
  
All fall but two.   
  
“Sweet Jesus.” Someone says and she realizes the sky in no longer red.   
  
The sisters stand.   
  
Click.   
Click.   
Click.   
  
“Stop. Stop!” Carmina grabs her arms and takes the AR from her twitching hands.   
  
She looks at the smoking gun and tries to remember how much ammo she has left. 

 

“Shit.” 


End file.
